


thank you for teaching me how to dance

by tevna



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I'm not sorry, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, even if i have to write them my damn self, waurel needs more fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6881596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevna/pseuds/tevna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time, he found her in Annaliese’s kitchen, in tears. And it wasn’t the pretty way that he’s seen her cry before, it was real tears. It was shaking shoulders and silent sobbing and her phone slammed on the counter with a crack that wasn’t there an hour before. And he didn’t know what to do or say, he wanted to get Michaela because he knew they were close but she and Asher went out for drinks hours ago, and Connor and Oliver were at home, (binge watching the latest episodes of Grey’s Anatomy in a foolish effort to finish every episode before graduation in 5 weeks-impossible, really, but anyway) and he was just standing there like an asshole and he had to do something now."<br/>Kind of a futurefic. Also PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thank you for teaching me how to dance

They met on the porch of Annaliese’s house, every time. He doesn’t know how it got to that point, but he knew when there were days that Laurel couldn’t stand the idea of the last place she is before home being Annaliese’s living room. And he knew too, when those days were too much for her to bear, because he’s been there. It’s usually the days before they go to court, where they meet on her porch and he drives her to his apartment.

The first time, he found her in Annaliese’s kitchen, in tears. And it wasn’t the pretty way that he’s seen her cry before, it was real tears. It was shaking shoulders and silent sobbing and her phone slammed on the counter with a crack that wasn’t there an hour before. And he didn’t know what to do or say, he wanted to get Michaela because he knew they were close but she and Asher went out for drinks hours ago, and Connor and Oliver were at home, (binge watching the latest episodes of Grey’s Anatomy in a foolish effort to finish every episode before graduation in 5 weeks-impossible, really, but anyway) and he was just standing there like a complete asshole and he had to do something _now_.

Laurel looked at him when the door opened, watched the gears turning in his head about what to do. And she thought about how pathetic she must have looked, God, how stupid. She’d had a fight with her mother that morning, which already put her in the worst mood possible, and then Frank, God, fucking Frank had the audacity to yell at her about something or the fucking other about the case and the client and it was just too much.

And then her _father_ of all people, of all fucking people, just called her and she just couldn’t answer and she threw her phone across the room, and the sound drew Wes into the room. She just couldn’t do it. Everything was so hard all of a sudden and coming at her all at once, and it was so tiring, so goddamn stressful. And now she was crying and she didn’t know how to stop and Wes was just fucking standing there. She saw his hand twitch to his phone and she’d be damned if he called Michaela or Connor or Asher right now, so she started wiping at her tears furiously.

“Wes,” she stated, cringing at how pathetic she sounded. “It’s fine, don’t.”

Wes’s hands went to his side, as he watched her wipe at her face as if she was angry with herself for crying. And he watched her, frozen in his position. And he looked around and realized that he couldn’t just leave her there, with her ex in the other room and Bonnie somewhere in the ceiling probably, or Annaliese and her nightmare of a life creeping over them.  Annalise could smell sensitivity from miles away.This was the worst possible place to be broken.

But this is Laurel, who has done so much for him. And he felt the need to protect her creep over him. So he reaches out to her and takes her hands, and it’s thoughtless the way that she folds into him. She’s so small beneath him, crying into his chest. He’s never known what it felt like to be there for someone but he imagined that this was it. He placed a lazy kiss on her forehead without shame, pushed her hair back, and made her look at him.

“Laurel.” he said, with conviction.  “Do you want to go somewhere?”

They were in his car, which ended up working out perfectly because Michaela, Asher, Laurel and Connor all drove together and she couldn’t say no to Wes or she would have to get an Uber, which she really didn’t want to do.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No.” was all she said and,for once, he left it at that.

“Okay.” Laurel was so grateful for how steady his voice was. How calming, how pure. She was so glad it was him who found her. Someone who knew her. Someone who understood.. Asher would have definitely been unhelpful, Connor would have just told her to grow up, Michaela would have just gotten her drunk and then talk about hooking up with Asher all night, and if it was Bonnie, Annaliese, or...God, if it was Frank…

“Can we eat somewhere?” she said, just to stop her mind from going there.

It was like 1 am and most respectable places in this world were closed so he turned into the nearest McDonald’s he saw. They ordered drive-thru and he paid, telling her not to worry about it.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked, watching her carefully drizzle ketchup over her fries as not to spill ketchup in his car.

“No.” she said, not being able to handle that right now. “If that's okay with you.”

And that’s when the sleepovers started.

Every so often, when Laurel or he have an especially bad day, they met on the porch and he drove her to his apartment. They get food along the way, usually Chinese take-out, and they talked. They talked in a way that she and Frank were never able to, They talk about everything, literally everything that they can possibly think of. They talk about music and tv and they study together and they tell each other about their pasts. And when Laurel is ready to sleep, Wes always gave her a pair of clean boxers or a t-shirt and she got on his bed, but they always ended up talking more.

He had never met a girl that he could talk with for so long. He’d never met another person like that in the world, actually. He cherishes the moments when he and Laurel are in a bed and she’s trying to teach him how to roll his r’s and he tries to teach her Haitian Creole,laying beside her while she absentmindedly plays with his fingers. At first, he just thinks it’s nice. A nice way to end a bad day.

But then it starts happening more and more, even on days that aren’t bad days. He and Laurel have gone grocery shopping together more than he can count (he always ends up pushing her cart while she stands on it). They go see movies together now before the sleepover. Michaela and Connor are convinced that they’re gonna elope in Vegas one day, after the spontaneous Cleveland trip. People at school have mistaken them for a couple more times than he can count too, which Laurel doesn’t mind at all because she loved to torture Wes with the joke that she’s his wife. Also, deep down, she knows she just loved any opportunity to grab Wes’s hand, she doesn't know why but she does.  It makes her feel like less alone these days.

He doesn’t know when he started falling for her but it’s almost immediate. He tried to ignore it, out of respect for her and the job and the friendship they all had but when she looked at him with those big, soulful brown eyes, he goes weak. When she kisses his cheek in front of some of the kids in class or when she puts her hand on the nape of his neck waiting on line for food at the Chinese place or when they hold pinkies, he wonders if she knows that she’s murdering him--ruining him, really. And it’s not that he’s being led on or anything because being intimate with another person doesn’t have to be romantic or sexual and he knows that...it’s just that sometimes, he wonders.

Like how they were now, probably the millionth time she’s slept over, and she’s eating some melted chocolates that Michaela gave her, drinking this semi-expensive wine (very tipsy)  and making him show her  Haitian music.

“Hey, come on. Have some before I eat this all.” she demanded, mouth full of chocolate and wine. And she held out the rest of her raspberry filled chocolate towards him. He moved to take it with his hand but she held it from him, insisting on feeding him. This alerted him that she was in a very playful mood, which made him roll his eyes and allow her to feed him. He took a bite from the chocolate and pulled away, as she licked the chocolate off her fingers. Wes caught himself staring and wanted to blush almost, because he shouldn’t have watched her do that.

She looked amazing, wearing one of his t-shirts and some shorts. Her hair was up for once, and he could see all of her face, which he’s never used to. She picks up another chocolate and he doesn’t think he could handle getting fed again or watching her lick her fingers again so he tries to direct the conversation towards the music.

“Here. All of these songs kinda suck, by the way.” Wes watched her react to some of the lyrics and laughed. “These are better.” he murmured, changing the artist. Laurel turned to look at him, bright eyed and mischievous.

“How do you dance to this?” she asked. “Tango, merengue, lambada...”

“I don't know how to dance.”

“Neither do I. But how are you _supposed_ to dance to this?”

“Kinda the same.  On the weekends, when my mom had a day off, my mom would turn on this music...make me clean and whenever her favorite song came on she’d grab my hand and used to try and teach me how to dance with me like this.You just hold your frame and follow the beat and you move your hips, it's just looser...and tighter than Latin music, like both at the same time.  You know what I mean?”

“No. Show me.”she says simply, standing up. She moved his books out of the way and pushed him to his feet.

The request was simple but it left Wes’s heart pounding. He almost declined before he saw the look in her eye, the mischievous glint that would never let him back down. And he realizes that she knows that she’s killing him, looking so beautiful and feeding him and acting the way she does. It was intentional. He was helpless. He was fucked.

But two can play at that game.

He held out his hand for hers, she offered it instantly. He brings her hand to his mouth for a second, looking at her while he did. She bit her lip, laughing a little bit before finding the beat and proceeding to swing her lips a little bit. Wes brings her in close and then far away, grabbing a chocolate from the desk in the process. He held it to her face, watching her nose crinkle when she laughed and accepted the chocolate in the process.

They danced for a second more before she grabbed his hand, brought it up to her face and-- _she wouldn’t_ , he barely has time to think but he knows that she would-- licked the remaining chocolate off of his finger and made eye contact with him the whole time.

And all of a sudden, the music meant nothing anymore.

Laurel knew she was a little drunk but not drunk enough to imagine Wes’s eyes darkening just looking at her, or to imagine her hips against his, and his hands placed low on her waist. Or his lips cascading down to meet hers, like she’s always wanted.

Her hands flew to his face, opening her mouth to let him in. He was such a good kisser for someone so seemingly innocent in the beginning. His hands pulled her waist closer, pressing his thumbs in her back and caressing her gently. She wanted more, but she didn’t know how to say it so she broke away from him and pushed him down on his bed and lifted her shirt over her head, hoping he got the message she was trying to convey.

He understood, loud and clear. With minimal hesitation, his hands immediately went to her ass and his mouth went straight for her neck. And she's never really been one for hickies, but the gentle tug and pull of skin between Wes’s lips was something she could get behind.

Her hands reached for his hair, slightly digging her nails in as she placed her weight on his lap, creating more friction than intended. Wes groaned from his position below her and flipped them around quickly. Laurel landed roughly, Wes’s hardness pressing urgently against her and the sound of Wes’s groan being played over in the back of her mind helped her decide to dedicate her time to making him make that noise as much as humanly possible. Her hand went to his waistband and pressed against him, and he looked at her with impossibly dark eyes.

Looking over her, he soaked her in. Her flushed face and heaving chest and her swollen lips, not to mention her neck, marked by him. She looked him in the eye and bit her lip while her fingers flitted about his waistband. He groaned again, starting to see stars and she seemed happy with herself. Wes had other plans though.

He leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss. Grabbing her hands, he lifted them above her head before allowing one of his hand to trail down her body (making a very important stop near her mouth and her shorts).

He started to stroke her through the shorts and the barriers between them frustrated Laurel to no end. She pressed against his fingers, sighing in discontent.

“Wes,” she almost whined, impatient and bold. “Please Wes,”

“Say my name again,” was his only response, kissing down her neck again to meet her bare chest. Her shirt had been lost a long time ago, and he was lavishing attention onto them while his fingers continued to lazily stroke her through shorts and soaked panties.

Laurel didn't know how much aggressive Wes excited her. His mouth covered one breast, his right hand continued to stroke and his left hand picked up her leg and wrapped around him in order to change angles. He was everywhere she needed him to be, except there were so many clothes in the way. Laurel whined as he started to stroke slower with more intent.

“Wes,” she whimpered aloud, and she could feel him smile from his position latched onto her right breast. “Wes, I want you so bad.”

He responded by pulling down her shorts and underwear, shoving them to her knees. She wears red lace and he's in awe, almost. But his fingers go right back to business, and hearing Laurel sigh in pleasure made him grin.

She’s just too beautiful, he reasoned. That had to be it; she was too perfect to be real. He wants her truly, deeply. He’d grown to think of her as one of the people he cares about most in the world, always protecting him the best that she could just from the goodness of her own heart. Maybe he had mommy issues, but that was his own problem. And yet, she had her own demons. She had her own dark past, one that didn’t make him feel like he was just bringing her down into this dark world of his.  And he’s told her this, sure, but he wanted so badly to show her. To please her into believing how great she is. He could never pay her back in real life but he could try his best to pay her back in orgasm.

“Jesus, Laurel,” he murmured absently, carefully kissing down her stomach, her back arched to meet his lips and butterfly kisses every step of the way.

“Oh Wes,” she said repeatedly, nails tracing stars on the back of his neck. “Yes, God, yes.”

She was sweaty and squirming in anticipation by the time he reaches the place she needs him to be. And she can’t help but feel like she was in danger of getting used to something too good to be true, like she was going to wake up any second now from this dream without release. Wes was one of the most special people in her world right now and she was so happy that he was here with her. She’d always been afraid of ending up with a man like her father but always saw it as a sad inevitability, especially after Frank. Wes, despite all of the things he had done, never felt a thing like her father. Maybe this was just her and her daddy issues but she was just so grateful to have someone like Wes in her life...and in between her legs.

Before Wes presses his mouth against her, he looked up at Laurel for a second and willed her to make eye contact with him. When the eye contact was granted, Wes pulled his finger away and placed it in his mouth, tasting her. She smiled at him and wanted to laugh but what came out was a cross between a laugh and a whine coming up in her throat if Wes didn’t do something, anything really, soon.

And all at once, Wes was everywhere. His mouth, his perfect mouth, was working her body in a way that was different than anybody else she’s been with, not in a good or bad way--all orgasms are good orgasms and there’s no bad way to eat a girl out, really--but in a way she wasn’t used to. He was so attentive, so receptive... so intuitive in a way that was unfamiliar. Usually she liked when someone else took control in situations like this one but this was an experience she was starting to cherish. As she drew closer, her hands took refuge in his hair, occasionally dragging her nails across his back, as her hips bucked. She tried to ignore her shaking thighs and focused on not suffocating him.

“God,” was all she could choke out before her orgasm hit her. He rode it out with her until she couldn’t take it anymore, lifting his head to meet her lips.

“You’re amazing, Laurel.” he whispers on to her skin. He’s too busy complimenting her to realize when she flips them over and starts on his belt buckle, working the button of his pants, and stroking the best she could.

Hissing, Wes looks at her with hooded eyes when he realizes her plan. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just paying you back” she stated.

“Laurel--”

“Shh. No,this one’s just for teaching me how to dance.”

And after that, the rest was history.

  
They met on the porch of Annaliese’s house, every time.


End file.
